


A Sheep Among Wolves

by worldstealers



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Catholicism, Demons, England (Country), F/M, Insanity, Nuns, Religion, Roman Catholicism, Sunnydale (BtVS), Time Travel, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 08:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19269748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldstealers/pseuds/worldstealers
Summary: Drusilla is bored. She's stuck in Sunnydale, Spike is obsessed with the Slayer, and nothing is turning out the way it was supposed to. But when she finds herself transported back to the convent of her youth, human again, and with a chance to change it all, will she? What's worse: being a soulless monster or being a human woman with nowhere to run?This story was originally read as part of the World Stealers podcast. To listen to this and more original fanfiction, find us wherever you listen to podcasts!





	A Sheep Among Wolves

“Run and catch. Run and catch. The lamb is caught in the blackberry patch.”

Her slender white hands ran lazily over the tops of bushes as she walked through the park, humming tunelessly, occasionally breaking into snatches of song. It was a long time since she had ventured out by herself for what she still thought of as hunting, though that word suggested a purposefulness that she distinctly lacked. Yet there he was, as luck would have it. Her prey, young and sweet and all alone. 

“Are you lost?”

The little lamb looked up at her, startled and wary of the pale, dark-haired stranger standing barefoot in a Victorian nightgown. She smiled, a gentle, sinister smile and drew closer. 

***********************************************

Angel. No fun. He’d come out of nowhere and sent her little lamb fleeing into the night! Ruining everything, stinking of slayer. A lady couldn’t even drink a child in this town without hearing from one of them. And now here she was, still hungry and angry to boot! Angelus used to be a delight. Angel, on the other hand, was a bummer. 

She saw his antlers first, and thought he was a stag. She wasn’t hungry enough to drink animal blood, but thinking she might enjoy snapping a neck after the evening’s fruitless hunt, she drew closer, the hem of her thin white dress rustling through the leaves behind her. As she neared, she could see that it was no stag. The creature stood on two legs, human-shaped but taller by several feet. Antlers crowned his head, large and regal and dripping with slime. For some time, they regarded each other in the moonlight, then the horned creature stepped forward, offering Drusilla a cloven hoof of a hand. 

“Hi there! I’m Scagdac the Nightbreaker! But you can call me Scagdac, or Dac for short. I’m a chaos demon. Hence the horns. And you must be Drusilla! I’ve heard all about you, you’re widely respected in the chaos field. So nutty and unpredictable! How long have you been in Sunnydale?”

Drusilla eyed him appraisingly. Lesser demons usually bored her but she found him oddly charming. Vampires were so image conscious. There was something refreshing about a guileless commitment to sewing discord. 

“Not so long I suppose but it feels like ages and ages. I get so bored sometimes you know, can’t go out and play, Daddy says stay home, be good, rest up.”

“Aww well that sounds like a real shame. What’s the point of life if you’re not living, right? I’m sorry, was that insensitive? I know you’re technically dead and all.”

“Dead, alive, it’s all different and all the same. Miss Edith isn’t alive but she’s very wise and lives her life to the fullest, or so she claims. But you’re not from here, are you? You’re from someplace warm and lovely and full of blood and dancing.”

“You’re as good as they say! And yes it’s a bit chillier here than what I’m used to but every hellmouth has its charms! I figured it was worth a pilgrimage. And boy was I right! Running into THE Drusilla!”

“It’s boring here. Spike promised me lots of pretty girls and boys to play with. He promised that the air would be all screams… but the slayer ruins everything. She’s even ruined my Angel. He’s useless now.”

Scagdac nodded gravely. “That sounds pretty rough.” He paused, thinking. “You know,” he began again, almost tentatively. “If you wanted, I could make it so none of it had ever happened.”

Drusilla’s eyes narrowed. “How?”

Scagdac shrugged. “I’m a chaos demon. Our powers are pretty fluid as long as we’re consistently hastening the universe’s descent into entropy. And nothing does that better than messing with timelines, boy howdy!”

“You would do that for me?”

“Sure! I love a little dip into the timestream. Besides, you’re cute. If our paths cross again maybe you’ll remember your old pal Scagdac the Nightbreaker. So what do you say? You up for a little do-over?”

He held out his hand. Drusilla hesitated. You couldn’t really trust demons, especially when they were of the chaos variety. They were never really committed to the rise of evil and the vanquishing of good. They were more like the drunken frat boys of the forces of darkness, sort of stumbling around, doing whatever they thought was funny, occasionally capable of unspeakable evil but mostly just dicks. Still, this one was particularly handsome and Drusilla enjoyed being flattered. Spike had been so fixated on the slayer lately that sometimes she felt like she and Miss Edith had ceased to exist. Besides, her life before Sunnydale and Buffy Summers had been worlds better. She could do with a return to that frivolity. She put her small, white hand in his large, furry one and closed her eyes, smiling.

*************************************************

She woke up in a narrow bed to the sound of bells. She looked around, disoriented. The walls were rough hewn stone and entirely bare. A wooden chair sat in one corner next to a small table with only a bible and a rosary. She lay in a lumpy bed with scratchy sheets and a thin, rather pitiful blanket. To call it a room was to strain the definition of the word to its very limits. Why it’s hardly more than a cell, she thought.

Early morning sunlight shone weakly through single small window, landing gently on Drusilla’s arm. She watched it for a moment, hypnotized, before realizing what she was seeing. She shrieked and recoiled. Sunlight! Who had trapped her in this place? Were they trying to kill her?!? She scuttled backwards across the bed into the darkest corner of the tiny room, huddling there as she looked around in panic for a way out. 

But something was wrong. The beam had lain across her arm for minutes, possibly longer while she slept, and… nothing. She was fine. She had reacted to the idea of sunlight, to the memory of its hateful, destructive force, but this little beam hadn’t even warmed, let alone burned her. She crawled slowly back towards the top of the bed, where the small patch of light now shone merrily on her pillow. She reached out a hand, hesitating, then thrusting it fully into the path of the beam. Nothing. She sighed, realizing she’d been holding her breath. She could feel her heart pounding. She could feel her heart pounding? Drusilla clasped a hand to her chest. There it was! The unmistakable thump of a living heart! What was going on here?!?

Before she could examine the situation further the door flew open and a harried, middle aged woman popped her head in.

“Sister Drusilla! You’re not even dressed! Morning prayers are in five minutes!”

“Sorry Sister Constance, I’ll be right there,” she replied.

“See that you are. You take orders this week, it’s no time to be slacking off and showing up late!”

“Yes, Sister,” Drusilla replied to the already retreating back of the plump woman. The responses had been automatic. Sister Constance? How on earth?

It hit her like a blow from the slayer herself. The cell-like room, the rosary beads, the sunlight! She was back with the Sisters of Mercy and she was – Drusilla gave a small shudder – human! She sat down hard on the lumpy bed. How could this be? Just last night she was as evil as they come, hunting children in a playground, plotting the destruction of her former lover-turned-slayer stooge. And now here she was, right where she had been centuries before, living in the cloisters and preparing to take her vows! Had it all been a dream?

No. Skeezy the Nightbender or whatever his name had been. He did this! He promised her a do-over and she assumed she’d be whisked out of Sunnydale, back to the old days when things here fun and Buffy-less. Just like a chaos demon to pull a cheap trick like this. They were always out for a laugh. If she ever saw him again she’d give him what for. 

The bells rang again, signaling the start of morning prayers. Drusilla sighed, pulling on her plain black dress and picking up her rosary beads, rather enjoying being able to touch them without burning. She’d figure a way out of this later. For now, in her weakened state, there was no sense in incurring the wrath of the nuns.

**************************************************

After prayers came breakfast, and Drusilla was surprised to find herself properly hungry. Not the greedy, ravenous, murderous hunger she was used to, but the almost pleasant feeling of an empty stomach. She found herself in front of a bowl of porridge and next to a girl about her age, a novitiate judging by her habit. She eyed Drusilla shyly.

“Are you taking your vows this week?”

“Hmmm?” answered Drusilla through a mouthful of porridge.

“I overheard Sister Constance talking about a new member of the order who was set to take first vows at the end of the week. I noticed you weren’t wearing a habit and I wondered if it might be you.”

Drusilla swallowed quickly and nodded. “Yes. I’ve done it before and now here I am again. Although last time it didn’t quite work out, did it?”  
“Oh, were you… with another order before this?”

“No, no, same order, but last time something got in the way.”

“Oh, I see. Yes, joining the Sisters of Mercy is a big decision. I’m sure God is pleased that you waited until you were ready. I’m Sister Mary Agnes, by the way. I took my vows last week so I’m new here as well.”

“I’m Sister Drusilla. Do you think God is pleased with what will happen here?”

“Drusilla? But you’re the one with the visions!” Sister Mary Agnes blurted, almost immediately looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude of me. But,” she hesitated, glancing around to see if any of the older nuns were listening, “I think it’s wonderful. A marvelous gift from God. You must be so blessed.”  
“Blessings, curses, they’re often the same, aren’t they? It all depends on how you look at it, and who’s doing the looking. And why are you here? So young, so pretty to be locked away.”

“Oh well, it was this or marry, wasn’t it? I wanted to go to school but my parents laughed at the idea. ‘Imagine wasting time and money on that’ they said. And they were right you know. I used to dream of being a writer. Isn’t that the silliest thing you ever heard? But the thought of being married to whichever man had the most money and having to…” Mary Agnes trailed off, looking troubled. She quickly brightened. “Anyway, this is close to school isn’t it? Time for prayer and contemplation, access to so many books, and if we show aptitude for it we can teach! Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Some of the sisters have even been talking about starting a convent in America, and a school for girls beside it! Can you imagine? America!”

Drusilla smiled. “It’s a lovely place, lamb. Crowds and noises and tall buildings and so much land…” she trailed off, noticing that Mary Agnes was looking at her strangely. 

“Have you… have you been?”

Drusilla realized her mistake. “Oh, no, I just… my brother went once. He told me all about it.”

The expression on Mary Agnes’s face changed to one of deep sympathy. “I heard about your family. Forgive me but, it’s just so awful. I’m so sorry. We’re all praying for you.”

Drusilla stifled a laugh. Nuns! Praying for her! But Mary Agnes didn’t seem to notice, distracted by the women around them rising and clearing their bowls. As Drusilla followed suit, she felt a sharp and unexpected pang. Her family was dead. But of course they were. That’s why she was here. She had fled to this convent after Angelus had killed them all, one after the other, right before her eyes. She had lived with this knowledge but, since she’d been turned, hadn’t truly felt it. Now she was human again and the pain hit her right in the gut. She gasped, doubling over. Her mother and father. Her sisters. Their throats ripped out while Angelus laughed. She had forgotten what it really felt like to live with it. 

“Are you all right love? Come on, there ya go, come to the gardens with me, bit o fresh air will do ya good.”

She felt herself being taken firmly by the elbow and steered down the hall and into the bright sunlight. Drusilla gasped, the shock of the bright light on her face enough to snap her back to the present. She found herself in the middle of a charming garden, surrounded by stone walls but big enough to feel open and airy.  
“There we go, you’re all right. Me mum always said a bit of fresh air could cure most anything. She was wrong, technically speaking, but it does help don’t you think?”  
Drusilla nodded, sitting down on a stone bench at the edge of a plot of tomatoes. The woman in front of her wore the full habit of a nun who had taken her final vows, but couldn’t have been older than her young twenties. She gave Drusilla an appraising look. 

“You’re the new girl, right? Drusilla? Sorry Sister Drusilla.”

“Drusilla is all right.”

“Good. All the ceremony and formality, it’s a bit cloying, innit?”

Drusilla nodded, unsure what to make of this rather brash, very un-nun-like nun.

“I’m Lucy. Sister Mary Catherine if any of the other nuns are around but out here just call me Lucy. If you don’t mind me saying, you look a bit peaky.”

“I was just…It’s just that…”

Lucy’s face softened. “It’s ok luv. I already know. I lost me mum, she was me only family. It were years ago now and it never stops hurting but the pain gets less sharp.”

Drusilla looked up. “How did she die?”

“She was killed by a man. She was a shopkeeper. She and me dad had run an inn together but he died when I was a baby so she kept right on running it. She was tough, me ma, and no nonsense. When I was 13 one of the men passing through had a bit too much ale and thought he’d make a woman out of me. Mum cracked him over the head with a cast iron skillet.” She laughed, a short humorless bark. “Bloke had a friend with him who didn’t like that too much and happened to be carrying a knife. I ran for help but it was too late.” Lucy sighed. “I guess it wasn’t enough just to kill her. Those men told the officers that she had been running a whore house, pimping out her own daughter, and that she’d gotten violent when these fine gentlemen tried to intervene on my behalf. The constable believed them, they walked away with a pat on the back for being good citizens, and suddenly there I was, a penniless whore with no family. The sisters were the only ones who believed me. They took me in and let me take orders even though I think Mother Superior knows perfectly well that I don’t believe in God. They’re good people, the sisters. Better than having to fend for yourself. It’s an ugly world for a woman alone.”

“I’m sorry about your mummy. She sounds lovely.”

Lucy smiled. “She was, yeah.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you like it here? Are you happy?”

Lucy looked at Drusilla for a moment, seeming to mull the question. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I’m safe and fed. And I’m training to become a nurse, which will at least be exciting. But no, I don’t think I’m happy. Most of the time I’m bored to death. And even in here you have to watch your step a bit. Some of the priests get handsy in the confessional.” She picked a flower, spinning it between her fingers. “But who’s happy, anyway? That sounds like something for people with more money than we’ve got.” She laughed again, this time truly amused. “I probably shouldn’t be saying any of this to you. But you should know that the world you’re entering is very small. Then again, we girls with no families, where else could we go?”

*******************************************

Where could she go? The question weighed on her. She had joined this convent over a hundred years ago (or just last week, depending on how you looked at it) because she had nowhere else to go. Her family was dead. She was plagued with visions. She was stalked by a demon. She thought that surely god would protect her behind the walls of a church. But this time around she knew how it all ended. Every nun dead, their blood on her hands. Her mortal life ended and her immortal reign of terror begun. She hadn’t yet committed those countless atrocities, but would she? Could she escape? And – asked a small and very troubling voice in her head – did she want to?

It was an odd feeling, living with a soul and the memory of the demon inside her whose voice hadn’t really left. Thinking about the people she’d slaughtered and the lives she’d ruined was like watching a horror movie – horrifying and fascinating and thrilling in equal parts, but none of it personal. She’d done those things but… had she? Did they count if they hadn’t happened yet? What to do when your past was your future and your future suddenly uncertain? If she were to live on as a mortal she would have to leave here. But where could a penniless madwoman go?

The days slipped by, differently than the first time. Then the convent had seemed safe and comforting. She had been content to live and pray in solitude, keeping to her room when she wasn’t attending mass or confession. Now she had friends in Lucy and Sister Mary Agnes and a lifetime of freedom behind her, and she saw the convent for what it really was. A trap. Slower acting and more insidious than the trap Angelus had laid perhaps, but a trap nonetheless, and one that would kill them all just as surely. She saw the heartbreak on Sister Mary Agnes’s face when her stash of pens and paper was confiscated by one of the priests as contraband and her stories ripped up and thrown in the trash. She saw the anger flash through Lucy’s eyes as Father Patrick put his arm around her in a fatherly way and whispered something in her ear, his lips coming a little too close to her neck. She listened as both girls played their favorite game in whispers, the game in which they told each other stories of what they would do with their lives if they were men. She thought of them lying on the floor of the convent, their throats slit. She thought of them growing old within the convent walls, their hearts heavy with unrealized dreams. 

*****************************************************

Drusilla sat in Father Patrick’s office, facing him across his desk. It was the day before she was to take her vows and he had called her in as she walked by, telling her it was routine for priests to meet with novices before they took the veil. Drusilla was on her guard. This hadn’t happened the first time. Perhaps she had simply been more visible this time around. She had seen the priest watching her as she walked into mass with Lucy and Mary Agnes, felt his eyes on her as she knelt to take communion. Lucy had warned her about him, said the best way to deal with him was to avoid him if you could. Priests and nuns weren’t supposed to be alone together, so keeping to the company of other sisters was usually enough. But Father Patrick had found her alone. She eyed him warily.

“So, my child, how are you finding it here with the Sisters of Mercy? Are you looking forward to taking your vows?”

“Yes, Father, though I ought to go. I’ll be wanted to help serve supper.”

“Ahhh service. Yes service is so important. As is obedience. Tell me my child, are you ready to dedicate your life in service and obedience to the Lord?”

Drusilla thought seriously about the question. “I thought I was, Father. But now I wonder. How will I know what the Lord is asking me to do?”

Father Patrick seemed surprised by the response. The smug little smile left his pudgy face. “Why my child, we have the Bible to guide us. And the Mother Superior. And,” here the smile returned, “naturally the priests will tell you what the Lord asks of you.”

“Will they?” asked Drusilla tilting her head to one side. “Does the Lord speak to you, Father?”

“My dear, of course He does, that’s what called me to the priesthood.” Father Patrick circled behind Drusilla, laying his soft, moist hands on her shoulders.

“Do you hear Him in your head, Father? The Lord? I hear voices in my head. I used to think they were angels but a priest like you told me they were devils. What does your voice say to you father?”

As she spoke, Father Patrick slid one hand down her shoulder until it rested lightly on her chest.

“Does it tell you that nuns are your playthings? Does the Lord like you carrying out abuse in his name?”

Quick as striking adder, with reflexes born from years that may or may not have happened, Drusilla grabbed his wrist, her hands like a vice, and, mustering all her strength, swung him around. He hit the edge of the desk with a grunt and Drusilla snatched up a letter opener, pinning him to the desk with the silver blade at his throat. 

“Surely your voice told you there’s a special place in hell for a shepherd who doesn’t take care of his flock? I’ve been evil Father, far eviler than you, and even I know that. Poor little lambs. They come for help and this is what they get. Would you blame me for slitting your throat? Or maybe I should take care of the part that started all this trouble.” She slid the blade down, stopping at the front of his pants. “You’re a priest after all. You shouldn’t be needing this anyway.”

Father Patrick whimpered, not sure what he feared more – the blade, or the demonic gleam in Drusilla’s eye. Drusilla withdrew the letter opener, slamming it point first into the desk, centimeters from his hand. 

“Now stay here, there’s a good lad. Don’t be a naughty boy or Mummy will be back to finish what she started.”

And just like that, Drusilla was back.

*********************************************

That night, the night before she was to take her vows, Drusilla glided down the hall of the convent, humming softly once again.  
“Run and catch. The lamb is caught in the blackberry patch…”

She couldn’t stay here. There was nowhere to run. Angelus would find her and, wherever she was, whomever she was with, he would kill them and kill her. She had seen it. It was meant to be. But her lambs… her lambs she could rescue. There was a better place for them.

She opened Mary Agnes’s door and helped her, sleepy and disoriented, out of bed. Then the two of them woke up Lucy.

“But Dru, where are we going?”

“Outside. It’s a beautiful night and there’s someone you should meet.”

Mary Agnes and Lucy looked at each other. Drusilla was an odd one for sure, but this was particularly strange behavior. They followed their friend, jogging to keep up with her long, graceful strides. The three of them emerged into the courtyard garden. Drusilla stopped short and held up a hand. 

“He’s here. Can you feel him?”

“Dru, you’re scaring us. Who’s here?”

“Dac, he calls himself. Nightbender. Bender of the night. Come out come out wherever you are!”

From behind the elm tree at the center of the courtyard a tall figure emerged, human but for the antlers, which dripped with slime. 

“Awww Drusilla, come on, you know it’s Nightbreaker!”

“Bender, breaker, I hardly know her,” Drusilla sang. “But I know you and I knew you’d be here. A chaos demon can never resist his work and tomorrow is a big day.”

She laughed and Scagdac the Nightbreaker grinned somewhat shamefacedly.

“You caught me. I did wonder what you’d do this time around, knowing Angel and Darla are coming.”

“I thought about it. Then I decided. Nothing. Let them come. I want to go home. What would I do in a place like this, even if I got away? Join another convent? Marry and have babies? I never realized what a terrible thing it is to be a woman. I’ve seen too much. I’ve got to go back.”

“Well gee, that’s a bit of a twist, but here’s the thing. I’m a chaos demon. If I unfuck the timeline well… that’s significantly less chaos!”

“Yes I thought you’d say that. But I have a suggestion. Take these two.”

“WHAT?”

“Drusilla what is happening here? Who is this? He’s not taking me anywhere!”

“Quiet, lambs, grown ups are talking. Take them to a different time. To my time when we first met. To college. They’ll be fish out of water, all stumbling about, it’ll be all lovely confusion and you love confusion.”

“I do, I do. And it’s intriguing in a minor way. But…. I’m a demon Drusilla, that’s not quite the level of chaos I’m used to trafficking in.”

“And when we meet again, and we will meet again, I’ll agree to a date.”

“Really? Well in that case… ok. I’ll do it. Back to Sunnydale for you and for these two…” he regarded Mary Agnes and Lucy thoughtfully. “All this time in a nunnery. I’m thinking Smith? Or Wellesley! Hillary Clinton went to Wellesley you know.”

“Drusilla. What is going on?”

Drusilla finally turned to the two frightened young women.

“My loves. I’m not what I appear to be. Or I am, but I won’t be for long. And you’ll be dead. I can’t save you, I’ve seen it and you’ll be dead.”

Mary Agnes squeaked, a frightened little sound. “Did you have a vision?”

“Yes. I’ve seen it, I’ve lived it, everyone dies, even me but especially you. Unless you go. Go to a different time and place. It’s better there.” She looked at Mary Agnes. “Women are writers. They’re doctors and lawyers and whatever else humans do.”

Lucy hesitated. “They’re equal to men?”

Drusilla laughed. “Oh darling, no, men are still the most awful pigs, but women are getting there. You’ll have options. And you’ll have each other. Please you must trust me, there’s no future here for you. Even if you survived there’d be no future here for you.”

Lucy and Mary Agnes looked at Drusilla. Lucy was the first to speak. “She’s right. There’s never been anything here for us.”

“And if we’re going to die anyway…”

Drusilla held out her hands and the girls took them, one on each side. As one, the threesome moved towards Scagdac who stood a little ways away, cutting an imposing figure against the moonlight. 

“Well allrighty then! Girls, there’s a lot you should know about college in the 90’s but I’m not going to tell you because it’s more fun that way! Dru, will it be back to the playground with you?”

Drusilla nodded. “Oh, and one more thing loves. If you ever see me in the future, know that I’m happy to see you. But also… run.”  
And they were gone, as if they’d never been.

****************************************************

Drusilla found herself, still bathed in moonlight, but back in the Sunnydale playground, long since emptied of Angel and the boy. She smiled, putting a hand to her chest. Nothing. That was more like it. She thought briefly of her little lambs. She hoped they were well. But for now, she needed something proper to eat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked the story and want to hear it dramatically read aloud, check out our podcast, World Stealers, on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever you choose to listen!
> 
> https://cms.megaphone.fm/channel/worldstealers


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